pretty hate machine
by PureWaterLily
Summary: It's a four letter word that is fifty part love, fifty part hate, and a hundred part vulgar. SasuIta. PWP.


pretty hate machine

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><p>AN. A total perversion of the unification in chapter 576, and I am not sorry. Horny fangirl wants less talk, more sex. Originally a little darker, but ah, screw it, I'm giving the brothers a break.

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><p>His back has already hit a wall.<p>

When Sasuke closes the remaining spaces between them, he wonders momentarily if his brother will just merely slip through the wall and disappear once more.

Itachi doesn't.

For once, he is not running away. He does not turn his back, nor coldly slap away Sasuke's touch, the two careful fingers trailing along the contour of his jaw. They glide down painfully slow, light and cautious, as one would when touching something expensive, fragile, dangerous, _forbidden_. The restraint does not escape Itachi's notice, the little pauses and hesitation, and neither does the deep breathes of excitement.

Sasuke is staring at him, captivated, enamored, near obsessive. It doesn't come as a surprise, because that look that has always been there, an admiration ages back in the form of bated breaths and wide eyes. But all things must mature, and Sasuke isn't as innocent anymore, the love and hate for his older brother grown like a magnificent flower, now far different from the bud it once was.

Itachi has pretended to be blind this change, how the desire to be close has turned to a longing to touch, how the need to kill and purge has turned into a craving to violate and dirty and stab repeatedly in violence and blood. His little brother reeks of lust, and it leaves him vulnerable.

And yet, while Itachi has no qualms tormenting his little brother about his shortcomings, targeting weak spots with a critical eye, never once has he drawn Sasuke's attention to this.

He says nothing, because he understands how such a flaw will naturally fade away after his death, how no one except him can use it, which he will never. Besides, he had no intention of drawing attention to something that ultimately exposes himself.

Sasuke is not the only one with an overwhelming desire for physical contact, to be looked at, even if the strikes bruise his skin and the cold glares wound his heart. However, unlike his younger brother's, his flaw is much more permanent and fatal, that in order to cover it, he needs a mask to hide his face, and lies to spill from his lips. A flaw so devastating, Itachi cannot bring himself to acknowledge the very truth Sasuke speaks, refuse to say it, even though Sasuke desperately wants to hear these words from him.

It is a flaw that will hurt him and break him, and tonight, Itachi wants Sasuke to fully exploit it for all its worth.

He accepts his brother's kiss, a kiss testing and hesitant at first, but soon marked with fervor and insatiability when Sasuke sees no resistance. He allows himself to be clumsily forced in the direction of his bed with his lips still captured, until eventually gravity pushes the both of them down onto the mattress. He lets his brother explore whatever he wishes, unravel him layer by layer, until he is stripped bare of his lies and illusions and excuses.

Sasuke will soon discover Itachi is so starved for contact, he craves his touches, kind or harsh. Sasuke will soon discover Itachi can lose his composure, clenching the bedsheets and moaning into pillows, encouraging him to continue. Sasuke will soon discover Itachi can be at his full mercy, controlled by raw pains and pleasures, left gasping, because Sasuke is a little too rough, a little too overwhelmed and inexperienced and inconsiderate with his thrusts.

It causes Sasuke to tremble when he sees Itachi willing to prostrate himself for him, be perfectly submissive, and even when clouded and lost in feeling, sweating and breathless, will still try to obey commands. At a single word, Itachi will reposition himself, kiss and touch Sasuke where Sasuke tells him too, as careful and delicate as possible, as if fearful his own lust will transgress what is permitted of him, fearful he will further taint and poison his younger brother.

It tells him how little Itachi demands, satisfied with anything offered him, while he puts his focus on tending to Sasuke's desires, a selflessness Sasuke finally understands can be easily taken advantage of, make Itachi relinquish everything and subject himself to pain in order to satisfy a mere whim of his brother's.

Itachi is as much as his slave as his master and guide, devoted to serving the one life that ever truly mattered to him, and Sasuke has to wonder if at the massacre, had he not given the judgment he did on Itachi, never condemned him as an object of hate, saw the helplessness in Itachi's eyes instead of the blood on his hands, then Itachi could still be alive. Had he never gave his sentencing and driven Itachi to the noose, maybe they could be together.

As Sasuke retreats, listless, he has to wince at the semen that he shot into his brother, now dripping down his thighs, as well as the blood due to ill preparation. When Itachi slides his legs together, Sasuke stops him half way and grips his arousal. "Wait."

His voice is weakened, and slightly shaken. "Fuck me."

It's a four letter word that is fifty part love, fifty part hate, and a hundred part vulgar. While Itachi can request this without a blink, without an ounce of shame, all while his back is pressed against the wall and his neck blooming with bruises, Sasuke cannot.

So Itachi does not. "Don't be foolish," he murmurs, his eyes tender, his palm pressed against the side of Sasuke's cheek.

Then, he closes his eyes and rests his head against Sasuke's chest, as he lets his hand drop, taking hold of Sasuke's, lets himself be stroked to release. Sasuke feels Itachi tense momentarily, a halted breath and a shudder, before the breath against him lighten, and his heartbeat falls.

"Nii-san..." Sasuke says, but then stops when he hears the soft whisper of his name, as Itachi leans against him, eyes still closed, tresses of hair loose and shielding his face.

Their hands are intertwined.

Then the first crack in Itachi's complexion takes hold, followed by the gentle fall of a ribbon of skin. Another soon accompany.

"Nii-san," Sasuke croaks, but Itachi only smiles back.

By dawn, Itachi has carried all the burdening love and maddening hate within his brother with him to the next world.


End file.
